Mouse Trap
by casuallllfollower
Summary: A renowned Phantom composer, a bright young singer, and the set-up of a lifetime. Modern.
1. 1 of 3

It was the gala of the century for those in the opera business. Everyone who was someone in the world of opera would be there, donating their fair share to the education of music in schools, and Christine was thrilled to have finally gotten her chance.

Her career started only a few months prior, but she felt as though nothing would stop her now. She'd performed on the largest stages in the country and her voice had been heard by millions of people. Tours and parts in operas were being offered left and right, and this was only her first event of many that was only a dream the year before.

Christine Daae was discovered by a connection of her father's. He was a violinist, better than most, who worked with many composers in many travelling shows around the country. When her mother had died at the small age of six, Christine too had learned to travel, but it wasn't until she was twenty that she'd stopped moving around with her father and began to settle in on her own.

Now, she had her own career, not only boosting her father's popularity, but also helping him to make more money. He wanted to retire, but hadn't thought it possible until recently.

The only thing her fame hadn't brought her was a boyfriend. She could sing at as many opera houses as she wanted, but most of the men on stage were either taken or didn't particularly care for her type. This meant that she had to attend the gala alone which really put a crowbar in her happiness. She would have loved to bring her father, but he was wrapped in a very important tour with Les Miserables currently and couldn't go.

There were faces on the red carpet that excited her to her core. Growing up, surrounded by famous singers and living their legacy was something that made her very attuned to those who were walking before her, ready to get onto the carpet and have a thousand photos of them taken, maybe even more. Soon it would even be her turn.

Christine saw one face in particular that intrigued her greatly. There was a composer of operas who she favored above all, and his reputation was positively enthralling. He wore a mask to protect his identity, going by The Phantom, and his operas were above all else. Christine adored his work, and she'd even performed it once! No one knew his real name, but everyone knew who he was when they saw the white mask which he wore out in public quite often. He seemed to like the attention, graciously talking to those who approached him and even allowing photographs.

She wished so very much to talk to him. Of course, these things were literally for mingling, but that didn't mean she would ever have the guts to approach him. He'd attended one of her performances in which she had the lead of his opera, but that was all she knew. That night had been one of her best, or at least, she tried to make it so. Maybe she'd run into him, or at least that was her hope.

Christine eventually had her turn getting her picture taken. She'd lost sight of The Phantom, but she knew her eye couldn't hold him forever. He was tall and skinny, always wearing a black-out outfit to these types of things, so at least he wouldn't be too hard to spot again.

The cameras flashed in her eye, and she tried very hard to keep the smile going, making sure every hair on her head was in place. She mostly hoped her father would be proud of her.

When Christine finally got into the gala, her heart skipped several beats, seeing even more opera royalty that baffled her little frame. Even nine months in the business meeting this and that person couldn't prepare her for the sudden success of her own self, thrust into this world, almost synonymous with some of the names present.

Christine shivered and attempted to find someone she knew, start with common ground and mingle her way towards… somewhere else.

Her eyes landed on Raoul quickly, a pale blue suit and pretty woman occupying his time. He'd starred opposite her in debut opera and they'd actually become close friends because of it. He was a gentle human, and Christine quite adored how kind he was to her as she learned the ropes of being on such a huge production.

The dance floor was completely clear of anyone, and Christine supposed it was because not everyone was there yet. People still poured in, their eyes dilated from all the pictures being taken then sudden dim lighting. It was amusing, and as she grabbed a water from one of the proffered trays, she caught sight of The Phantom again.

He was so different from everyone else. Christine didn't know what it was but his operas consisted of something else that no one else's did. It was hard to even compare in her mind that someone could be as good as him one day… really she didn't think it possible.

Shying away, Christine abandoned her hope of talking to him as she looked back and saw Raoul coming her way. The Phantom was caught up in real stars, like the veteran diva Carlotta, or the tragically injured dancer Antoinette Giry. Christine had worked with her daughter once, and she had wished her and the ballerina had gotten more time together, their friendship had so much potential.

"Hi, Christine," Raoul said, every bit French as he sounded when he placed two kisses to her cheeks.

"Hi, Raoul, how are you?"

"Wonderful, you look smashing in that dress."

"Thanks," Christine replied, blushing at the comment. He'd always been very handsome and good with words, it was a wonder he hadn't been snatched up yet.

"Gold really does suit you," he added, grabbing her hand and gently squeezing it before letting go.

"Did you come with anyone?" She asked, sipping her water.

"No," Raoul had champagne, "Same as always, I'm afraid. Is it true you're going to be doing another Phantom piece soon?"

Oh, how she wished! Such gossip was very common, unfortunately the gossip surrounding them was usually untrue.

"If only, his works are so hard to get into. I only played a lead in the first one I did because the original lead broke her leg!"

"You still deserved it regardless of happenstance," Raoul said.

"Thank you. I'm hoping my audition for the Mainstage role went well, but everyone who is anyone auditions for Mainstage, so I can't honestly compete with them."

Her chatting companion scowled at her.

"Don't belittle yourself, Christine. They announced tenor yesterday, though…" He hinted, hoping she heard the news.

"I know! Congratulations, by the way, and all the more reason I want the part! To star with you again would be just perfect."

"I would love nothing more. I've missed you, honestly."

Christine felt overwhelmed at such nice comments. They'd gotten along very well, but she didn't know he enjoyed her work this much!

"I've missed you too, Raoul. No one I've worked with can hit tenor notes like you can."

He tipped his glass to her in thanks, taking back the last of his flume. She did truly love working with him, and to do so again would be good for her. Repeating stars working with one-another showed that people liked her, and she did so want people to like her.

"How about a dance?" He asked suddenly, looking over at the dance floor which seemed to have begun filling in.

Christine agreed, but knew her wishes of running into The Phantom would not be met there. He never danced, not even when most of the tables and rest of the room were empty. Still, she did love to partake in dancing, so she could not deny Raoul the pleasure.

"I'd love to."

Their dance was a beautiful waltz which changed to something jazzy, then moved on through one more song before Raoul was interrupted by another of Christine's co-stars who had left his boyfriend to dance with her. She took the liberty of dancing with several men, and even one of her female co-stars, when she finally felt the need to take a break and grab another water, maybe even snack.

As she looked over the immense amount of food there to consume, she was overwhelmed by her options. Everything looked so wonderful, and she rarely ever ate so lavishly, not being used to it. Restaurants and to-go meals were her home-cooking, so these decadent things were foreign to her. This was why she was so startled when someone touched her shoulder gently, attempting to achieve her attention.

When Christine looked to see who it was that had so terribly startled her, she was immensely glad she had yet to take any food. It would have certainly turned her stomach.

The Phantom had grabbed her attention, and she was in shock. His mask was covering most of his face, bar his chin and lips, yet he looked pleasant… happy, if she so dared to assume.

"Good evening, Miss Daae," he spoke eloquently, and Christine nearly fell to the floor.

She had heard his voice over the television or radio, but to hear it in person was sin itself! The sound was unlike anything she ever heard, and it was as though he spoke music. Then again, his operas were probably proof enough of that already.

"Good evening, Sir." She dared not call him Mr. Phantom. That would do no good.

He smirked, and Christine realized with sudden alarm that he knew who she was… and he'd approached _her_!

"I just wanted to let you know that your performance of my _Breathless King_ was, for lack of a better term, breathtaking."

Christine had no idea how to respond, as she felt a simple thanks wasn't enough.

"Thank you…" she stuttered, "I've never… _ever _performed something like it before."

Seeming undeterred, he chuckled, one of the most hearty sounds she had ever heard before.

"That is the common consensus. I like to write that way, however, so that way I forge ahead for those who wish to compose something as unique as I have."

There was a touch of humility there, but he also did not bring down his work, seeming to know its exact worth. That was a good quality in a person, Christine had discovered. If they slightly belittled themselves and also knew they possessed talent, the person tended to be a fine human being.

"I was glad to have had you upon the stage when I came, the other woman who was supposed to perform I had heard before. I like to hear fresh talent, especially when it delivers such an outstanding rendition of my work."

Christine had to be blushing, "I'm honored, truly."

He nodded, no drink or food in sight as he took a step closer to her. Christine's breath halted in her lungs, the blush becoming hot and immense as she turned her head to look upwards.

"I would like to have you in one of my operas again. Of course, that is after Mainstage, I suppose."

Christine finally breathed, honored that he had not tired of her voice and wanted her back… but what did he mean about Mainstage? No one knew who the soprano was to be yet, they'd just finished auditions two days ago.

"Mainstage is still up in the air, though I would like nothing more than to be in one of your operas again. I've listened to your music for years, and it is by far my favorite."

"Glad to see I have such a talented fan," he said with a wink, placing his thumbs in his pockets, "And I happen to be on the panel for Mainstage. All their choices go through a panel of composers, usually never much of a complaint from us, and you were the first choice. I shouldn't be sharing this with you, but I have _never _been one for the rules."

Christine giggled, charmed by him. She had no idea what to say. Mainstage had been a far off thought, and even though she had wanted the part with Raoul more than anything in the world, it was baffling to hear that she was their first choice. She'd beaten out tons of stars far more seasoned than her, and right after that The Phantom wanted her on one of his operas yet again? Oh, what a night this was turning out to be!

"I'll keep my lips sealed. I wasn't ever a rule-breaker, but it'll be a refreshing change of pace."

He smiled again, and Christine realized terribly late that she seemed to _like _this man.

Everyone wondered what he looked like under the mask, and she was no different. Of course, this was the exact reason he was wearing a mask, so he could keep his anonymity. Though, she felt like people would remember being talked to by this voice, it was… magical.

"I'm glad to hear. One last curiosity, if you don't mind me bending your ear for a few more moments?"

Christine shook her head eagerly, not caring how hungry or thirsty she was, her attention was completely taken by this man.

"Would you mind a dance?"

The epitome of confidence and certainty was he, but not now. As he offered her his hand, he seemed to be mildly reluctant. She knew why, he'd never dance with anyone before at one of these things… so why now… why her?

Christine wouldn't bear to say no, however.

"Of course," she breathed, slipping her hand into his, watching all of his confidence return within an instant.

They entered the dance floor smoothly, and while some seemed very concerned that the new girl on the block was dancing with one of the most renowned composers present, it did not phase most. Everyone continued on with their chatting, but despite the eyes on them, Christine couldn't take hers off her partner.

He broke their silent dance with a question which seemed very important to him, "You _are _the daughter of the Swedish violinist, yes? His only?"

"That would be me," she replied, wondering briefly if that was his only reason for liking her. Maybe he was a bigger fan of her father's.

"Merely curious, you don't have the blonde hair like he does."

"My mother was a brunette."

"Ah, I'm sorry if I have unintentionally brought you to a sad topic," he said quickly, obviously remorseful. Christine felt like he should not be the one saying sorry, it just seemed wrong.

"Don't worry," she assured him, "That was a while ago. I wish I could have brought my father tonight, but unfortunately he is working on tour right now."

"So you came with another?"

"By myself," she responded, curious as to why he would be interested in her at all. It was very odd. Then again, he could simply not care for silence and was creating filler. They could simply not dance if that was what he preferred. And again, she countered, _he _had asked _her_.

"That doesn't explain the eyes I have peered into the back of my head."

Christine huffed. She'd certainly gotten more than she bargained for out of this night.

Looking about, the only pair of eyes left on them was Raoul. He was dancing with another of his old co-stars, and she seemed to be chatting his ear off… he wasn't listening to her, that was for sure.

"He's my friend, probably just curious how I got you out here is all. He knows I quite fancy your work," she admitted, feeling rather foolish.

They stepped about, dancing freely as the song moved on. Christine was surprised how well he could dance. Her dancing skills were passable in a large ensemble, but luckily she was the soprano and needed not much dancing.

"He's performed in a few of my works over the past couple years. I admire his tenor, but I think he would be much better suited baritone. His role in Mainstage is actually more baritone anyways, why it's labeled tenor is beyond me. Still. He earned it."

Christine had never heard such a judgement for Raoul. Even she thought his tenor was perfect.

"Do you like working with him?" The Phantom asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.

"More than anyone else so far," she said, smiling up at him. Even in her heels he was quite the ways up.

"I'll see to it he is placed in a role suitable for him when you perform in my next work. He must audition, however, or there is nothing I can do short of demanding he work for me which does not look good."

Christine was aghast that he was bending over backwards for her. They'd just met and he'd only heard her sing once, did this man really know what he was doing?

"You have been too kind to me tonight, Sir, I don't know how to return the favors you're granting-"

"Don't worry," he interrupted, looking as though she were being foolish, though it was hard to tell behind the mask where she only had mouth and eyes to tell anything from, "I will take care of my lead soprano, Miss Daae."

Mouth dry and heart pounding, Christine was extremely thankful when the song ended and he escorted her off the dancefloor. She desperately needed a drink and wished it was August, not June, where she could enjoy something alcoholic.

"I must excuse myself to get a drink, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night," she told him, feeling quite indecent to have ended everything of her own accord. But he'd been so nice! Overly nice, and it was terrifying to have someone so devoted to her that he was offering her privileged information and a part in his next production… what a night!

"And you as well, Miss Daae."

He left without a hitch, but one man gone and the next came right after.

Raoul was very curious as to what happened, looking concerned at her bereft appearance.

"Are you alright, Christine? Did he say something awful to you? Did he not like your performance?"

Christine shook her head, gulping down her water and draining the glass before responding.

"No, Raoul. He offered me the lead in his next production!"


	2. 2 of 3

Mainstage had been… well, more than she ever could have dreamed. Once Mainstage had been announced and she was flooded with calls from various people who wished her well, it was all uphill from there. Christine felt like one of the best as she rehearsed with those in kind, learning from world-renowned coaches and directors, consuming a beautiful script, and performing on the stage that made or broke careers.

Hers was most certainly made as offers to audition for parts came flooding in, invites to parties came in tenfold, and suddenly everyone knew her name. There was the process of press, a cast recording, and so much more that Christine suddenly had so much respect for those who had come before her.

Her life was crazy.

Nothing was more crazy than when on the last night of Mainstage, Christine was visited by The Phantom. It was after the performance, and by ways which she wasn't surprised by for some reason, he had been able to visit her in her dressing room. There had been a knock on her door, and she was mostly ready to leave, tears still drying, when she got up and let him in.

"You were positively radiant upon that stage, Miss Daae."

Christine would have loved to make him call her by her name, but she didn't know his and doubted he would give it willingly.

"Thank you, I figured you would have came when all the other stars came, at the opening?"

He shook his head, looking back to the crowd of workers then back to her with a grin.

"I hate to be seen with them. Besides, the last show is always where the real talent is. A real actor will have performed the last show as equally well as the first. Because this is only a week, I am sure it was refreshing to your three week usual?"

"It was… different, certainly. I do so cherish performing with Raoul, and everyone here was fantastic to me. I couldn't have had a better lot to do Mainstage."

"I'm sure," he said with the shake of his head, "Do you mind if I come in, it's quite loud out here, and I want to talk to you in a bit of a more quiet place.

Christine imagined it was going to be about the fact that the papers blew up about their dance. She'd gotten tons of questions about it when the photograph had hit front page of the paper and was on almost every phone screen alert for those who followed opera. That was the last time they'd seen one-another, though, so she told everyone the truth which meant that they bored with it quickly.

"Please do," she said after a moment, preparing herself to hear even the worst. Maybe he would tell her that she couldn't perform for his works any longer because of the publicity she'd drawn.

They settled into opposite chairs, Christine in her dressing chair, and him seated on the couch, much shorter than her, but you couldn't tell because of his normal height. She'd never quite met anyone who dwarfed her like he did in size.

"First, I wanted to apologize if there was anything bad that came of our dance, I merely wanted to dance with one of the best singers I have ever heard. The media has a way of assuming things, and hopefully they did not hurt you?"

"Not at all," Christine said quickly, immensely relieved that she still might have a chance at getting her hands on another of his scores. They were addictive, and she was sitting on the edge of her chair to hear whatever else it was he had to say.

"Good. I hate to see people get snatched up in all that nonsense. Have you thought any on what one of my pieces it is that you'd like to perform?" He asked, crossing his left leg over his right, the action smooth and practiced.

Christine really had nothing else to focus on but his movements because surely what piece she performed had nothing to do with her. It couldn't.

They sat in silence for a moment before it seemed that The Phantom caught on to her hesitance.

"The choice is yours, Miss Daae. Do you have a favorite?"

All of them, she wished to say, but her confidence was not so large.

"Well, I favor _The Menace of Thorns_, but shouldn't it be up to you and not me, I mean with how badly the papers reacted to a dance, I can't imagine-"

"Miss Daae," he interrupted her sudden rush of words with a lithe hand and a single glance of gold eyes into hers, "I want you to be more comfortable on this stage than you have ever been. I will spare no cost or care to what people think."

His words were sharp, not seeming to care for the rebuttal she had about the press. He obviously had a major distaste for them which was why he wore the mask.

"This is quite overwhelming, I really don't understand where this is coming from…"

She didn't know what else to say. He was doing so much for her, and for what? Did he do this for all the pretty sopranos he had collected over the years? Of course, there hadn't ever been any bad rumors about The Phantom, none other than his mask, but she did wonder. Was she the first, or was she merely one of many?

Suddenly, he stood, his height coming upon her like a large bird of prey spreading its talons to catch a mouse. The man walked over to her chair and leaned down resting both hands on her arm rests, his face straight and serious.

"You are the best soprano I have ever heard. When I saw that you were accepted for Mainstage, I knew you would soon be contracting world-wide, and I wanted you to myself before that happened. I wanted you when you were free for you to express your talent in something you truly love. Therefore, you pick your favorite of my operas, and you get anything else that you may desire."

Christine felt as though she'd never received a deeper compliment. This was a serious offer from a very serious and intimidating man.

"_The Menace of Thorns_, that's my favorite."

"A baritone lead, how fitting when I know you'd like your current co-lead to once again be opposite you."

"He was going to take a break from performing for a while, though I can't imagine why," she commented, truly curious as to why Raoul had decided to take a sabbatical from working.

The man rather close to her face did not seem fazed, however.

"I can make an inference, but it is none of my business," he remarked icily, "If you get him to the audition, you need not do anything else."

"I'll try," she said with a tiny nod, thinking about Raoul and how very happily they'd gotten along recently. This show had brought them very close, spending a myriad of time together did that to people, though. She supposed maybe Mainstage had worked him so hard that he wanted to take a break from working just to recover. _That_ Christine could understand, but she was addicted now… and had the best offer of her life. There would be no stopping for her.

"Good," his eyes caught something briefly, but Christine couldn't tell what as he backed up from her, straightening his suit, "I look forward to working with you, Miss Daae. You will be the best Thea Shanton there ever was."

And with that he left… and following him came Raoul, who made her suddenly understand why he wanted to take a break from working for a few months.

He asked her out… on a _real_ date, and she had nearly cried with happiness before saying yes. Raoul was a wonderful man of theatre, and while the first time they had been together he'd been unavailable, now he was hers. So Mainstage had been a wonderful time for her, but _The Menace of Thorns_ was going to be all that and more.

There would be no recording or opening gala, but there would certainly be The Phantom and his mysteriousness watching over her move, which wasn't a frightening idea as Christine thought it should be.

Raoul had allowed her to make him audition, though he was so confident that he wouldn't get the part, he seemed almost disappointed when he did. He got the call on his cell while they were watching television in her apartment.

Raoul essentially lived in her home, but Christine didn't mind. She loved being in her space with him, it was a change from the usual loneliness that had occupied her since she'd stop touring with her father.

Her father did not much care for the arrangement, but he very much liked Raoul. He was kind, and of course Gustave Daae had heard of Raoul Chagny, the French tenor who charmed everyone he met. It meant the world to Christine that Gustave approved, but he seemed to be the only one.

Everyone had been much less forgetful than she imagined, and social media was abuzz at the fact that they thought she had left The Phantom for Raoul. The rumors were interesting, and as her fame grew, she realized that many things were as they seemed around people. By the time _The Menace of Thorns_ finally came, however, things had once again diffused, and Raoul and Christine were a very happy couple… who just so happened to be the leads in an opera which the roles were given to them by the composer.

Very casual.

There was a large difference between working on this opera than any other she had before, even one of his own works. The Phantom was directly involved in every move that was made. He tutored her privately, the ensemble working as she was coached on delivery and her music.

The Phantom was a very peculiar coach who cared very much for her voice… and her overall health. He was very sweet to her when he wanted to be, but if she slipped into a bad mindset, his temper was unmatched. Christine never let it bother her, though, since his persona was almost always amiable.

Raoul upset the man to an unquestionable end, but Christine thought nothing of it. Many composers did not share the love for one lead or the other but let them perform anyways due to their rightness for the part. Speaking completely professionally, and not because he was her boyfriend, Christine thought Raoul was perfect for Benedict anyways. The Phantom seemed to think so as well, despite his coldness with her boyfriend emotionally. At least he always went out of his way to tell him that his performance was ideal.

They were getting very close to the show when Christine realized something quite drastic about her relationship with The Phantom. Their lessons always went on well, she never had any problems with the way he taught, nor did he with the way she sang. In fact, Christine found that just before the show their relationship had turned from distant co-workers to friends, which was already terrifying in its own right without yet another revelation that would change her life.

"You were flat on the G, Christine, please be careful of it," he interrupted. It was her last lesson before they finally put on _The Menace of Thorns_, and Christine was simply giddy.

"I know, I know, I am merely crawling with excitement. You've been such a wonderful help, Maestro, I don't know how I would have done it without you."

Still unknowing of his name, Christine was forced to call him _something_, so they had compromised on Maestro. It didn't distance her any from him, not to her, she felt as though calling him something other than Phantom was close enough, or at least closer than anyone else got.

"You would have done just fine," he told her sincerely, his eyes focused on her through the mask, "Your talent is unmatched, Christine. I believe that you hold the world at your hands, for I know you certainly have that boy you're with, our lead, falling right over you."

With a small laugh, Christine pushed back her hair and smiled, feeling like a schoolgirl as she thought about her relationship with Raoul. He meant so much to her, and rehearsing with him was wonderful. They spent almost all of their time together, bar these lessons and when their characters weren't on stage together.

"He's not a boy, really. Raoul is actually quite the bit older than I am."

"Yes, seven years and three months," her Maestro said absentmindedly as though he'd been counting, but in reality Christine knew it was merely one of his quirks. He was a brilliant man with a never-ending supply of knowledge which did not stop at music. Architecture, mathematics, history, various trades… The Phantom really was a man of mystery, and around every corner Christine discovered something new about him.

This corner was no different.

"How old are you?" She wondered, "I know so little about you, and I know you don't care to give out your name, I understand that, but… can you tell me?"

He'd been around for a few years as a composer, so she guessed at the bare minimum twenty-eight, and he did not look old from what she could tell. He was a lithe human being, very agile and always prepared, no matter the circumstance. The man had danced wonderfully, too, Christine recalled with a whimsical fancy.

They were in a small practice room, no bigger than a bed in square feet probably, and the piano bench creaked as he turned to her. His hands went to his knees, and from the little she could tell of his frowned eyes and lips, he did not seem inclined to answer her question.

"No one had cared to ask before."

"Well, I care. I consider you my friend now, I hope that isn't too forward."

This brought a smile to the man's lips, and Christine instinctively felt the reaction warm her. It was always nice to make someone else smile.

"That's very good news, Christine, the sentiment makes me quite the happy man of thirty-two," he said, his lips shifting into a grin. "Is there anything else you want to know?"

"You mean, I can just... ask you anything at all?" She replied quickly, almost eager to ask the plethora of questions that filled her mind for this man.

He breathed out heavily before answering, "Bar my name, I do care to keep one secret."

"What's your favorite color?"

A snort of disbelief before his answer, "Blue."

"Your favorite song?"

"Bohemian Rhapsody."

Christine gaulked, not taking the famed opera composer as a fan of Queen.

"Then your favorite opera?"

"My own, of course, silly girl," he said without even a thought. Christine thought it rather funny that his own works were his favorite, but then again, he put much effort into those things, so why shouldn't they be?

"Are you married?"

"No," came the stern reply, though his bemusement had not vanished.

"That rules out kids," Christine said kindly, "Out of all the fascinating things that you do, what is your favorite besides composing?"

The Phantom's mouth thinned into a line, and she imagined what his thinking face looked like. His privacy was his own or she would ask of him to see his face, too. For some reason or another Christine had the inkling that he was quite handsome man under it.

"My not being married does not necessarily rule out my having children. I could have been divorced for all you know."

"Sorry, I simply assumed-" she started, but a hand in the air gave way to silence.

"You are right though, Christine. I have no children. One day I would like some, I think, but with no wife or even a prospect of one, I lack that motivation for now."

"I don't know how," she began, leaning on the piano and looking at him with focused eyes, "You are such a wonderful person, very smooth-talking and graceful, I find it so hard to believe no one has snatched you up yet."

"You're very amusing, Christine, I appreciate the compliment," Maestro replied with a chuckle.

"I mean it," she asserted, feeling as though he needed to hear it, "You have so many wonderful characteristics, I'm sure a girl would love to have you."

"I doubt that. You know so little about me, Christine, no matter how many questions you ask, you'd never know everything."

He seemed to mumble something after that, but she did not catch it as he went on to say something else in a much more audible tone.

"My favorite thing outside of composing is coaching your voice."

With deep breath in, Christine looked at her Maestro, unconvinced.

"While I appreciate the compliment, surely you do better things with your time than teach me. I'm but a star in one of your operas, soon to be doing other things. I come, then I go. You must pick something constant."

A sad smiled came, looking up at her with an equally melancholy reflection in his eyes, "If I could have you star in every opera I've written, I would. Your voice will remain with me the rest of my years."

In a quick motion of retreat, she realized exactly what he was saying, or, rather, what he wasn't. Realization came harshly, as though a cold wind had swept under her skirt. The icy way he treated Raoul, the offering of her _and _her boyfriend the part, his letting her in on the Mainstage secret early, and then the private lessons in which he doted on her and sculpted her with compliments and praise. This man… this enigma of a composer _liked _her, and if she were to take a stab in the dark, he may even love her.

Christine didn't know what to do with such a revelation. Currently, though their relationship was new, she adored Raoul. For the life of her she wouldn't leave him, though she doubted that her Maestro was asking that of her. In fact, she knew he wasn't because one of his many attributes was his charity. He was a very kind man, and the fact that Raoul was still even a lead in the opera was a spectacular show of his nature.

The idea that The Phantom, who only months ago had been a far off stranger to her, _liked_ her was an insane idea. Christine could hardly figure out how she knew, but it was something that she was extremely certain of.

And with a melancholy smile she knew that he was aware also.

"Why don't you go home, Christine? We both need the rest. Tomorrow is an extremely important day."

It wasn't as if the show was premiering, this was his star hit, and not only that, but her favorite of all his operas. She was going to do him proud, whether she was shaken to the core or not by the sudden tension in the air and change which had occurred.

"You're going, right? I'd hate to put on the best performance of my life and not have you there."

She tried to cover up the chill in the air with a quick laugh and smile, wishing either would help. Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it, thinking that paying attention to The Phantom was a little more important.

He remained uncomfortable, however, shuffling the music in his hands, failing to make eye-contact.

"I'll be there," he paused, looking quickly at her, eyes brimmed with tears, "_Goodnight_, Christine."

"Goodnight."

She wasn't going to force him to talk, talking didn't seem to be his thing. So, she left, closing the door with a soft click, trying not to imagine him crying in there, taking off his mask and brushing tears away. The thought was terrible, her strong and otherwise cocky Maestro breaking down… all over her?

If she could talk to her past self… Christine wasn't exactly sure what she would say, she couldn't exactly make someone not love her. How long had he done so? He was worth fifty of her, for she considered herself lucky to even have Raoul who was seven years her elder, so _why _her? It didn't make sense, and she was no less flabbergasted than she had been moments before.

When she got back to Raoul, he noticed almost immediately that something was off with her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, knowing the next day was the show, and it was paramount that they were well rested, "You didn't answer my text."

"Yeah," she muttered, setting her things down by the door and slipping her shoes off. The coolness felt wonderful, and Christine rushed over to her boyfriend, resting on his chest.

"I'm perfectly fine… I'm worried about someone else. The next few days are going to be very hard for them."

"So you went the whole way home without replying to me?" Raoul joked lightly, merely sounding curious, "Are _they _going to be okay?"

"I don't know, Raoul. I don't know."

Christine discovered the next day that her Maestro was not, in fact, okay. Raoul and her did splendidly, which only led to a deep sadness in her friend. The Phantom did not come out to his bows, nor did he show his face for autographs as he usually did when a show of his opened.

_The Menace of Thorns _had been beautiful, though, yet it was not as gorgeous as the single rose she brought home with her and Raoul that evening, It was tied in a red bow, and the petals were so dark they looked black in bad lighting, not a thorn in sight, as her Maestro had carved them off. Maybe one day he'd be alright, but as long as she was in _The Menace of Thorns_, it wouldn't be anytime soon.


	3. 3 of 3

Christine put her magazine down with a huff, feeling positively dreadful. Raoul hadn't texted or called her back in hours, and they'd hardly even talked that whole week. Today had been her day off from rehearsals, and he had said it was going to be a light day since they didn't need him for most of it, but obviously the directors had changed their minds.

After _The Menace of Thorns_, Christine and Raoul had worked on and off together for a year. Their first show apart from each other wasn't too terrible for they'd lived in the same city still, but when Raoul took the job in California… well, things had gone downhill. He never called when he said he would, and sometimes calls came in at one in the morning due to the time difference. Christine sometimes wished he just wouldn't call at all when that happened.

Curled up in her chair, Christine looked at her phone with a resentful glare and rolled her eyes. The only reason she felt so awful was because she was waiting for his call so that way she could end their relationship. Raoul was lovely, he was great to work with, and Christine adored him more than anything in the world. In fact, she loved him, but their varying careers made it hard for them to communicate, and she realized that something just wasn't working between them. He loved to travel when his career took him, but she did not. Staying put made her very happy.

Turning on the television, there was a news article that did not help her depressed state in the slightest.

It was basically a wonderence of why The Phantom hadn't had any operas performed since _The Menace of Thorns,_ to which even she did not have an answer. He had disappeared out of the blue after the opera had closed three weeks in. It had only been booked for two, but because of the high demand they'd sold out a whole other week.

Christine looked back on those times fondly, her lessons with her Maestro and the music distant memories which she wished she could bring back to light. Radio silence from The Phantom was the common consensus among everyone. Even those who claimed to be his closest friends were unaware of his location.

It pained her to think she was the cause of his hurt. They'd become so close, and she cherished him deeply, caring for him even, but she loved Raoul… well, she _had_.

Changing the channel almost immediately, she found something mundane and left it there, appreciative of the background noise. Scrolling through her phone, eyes half closed as the night got late, she was startled by the ring that came from her little device.

"Hello…"

"Hey, Christine. I'm sorry it's so late," Raoul came through on the other side, a lot of background noise coming through. Was he at a bar?

"Where are you? I can hardly hear you!" She enunciated, which was terribly inconvenient in a small little apartment.

"I'm out with the cast, you know. Bonding and stuff."

"I thought they didn't need you today?"

"They ended up having me stand in for the lead, he's got a nasty sore throat. Then the guys took em out for a couple drinks… I'm sorry, my sweet."

"I'm sure," Christine muttered, feeling as though she needed to get out what she had to say sooner rather than later. "I need to talk to you, can you go somewhere quiet?"

"Yeah, give me a second."

An influx of silence came over the phone, and Christine sighed. This was not going to be exciting. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweaty, and she felt the urge to simply hang up. Raoul, in fact, was her first boyfriend, and after a year people were getting very curious about them tying the knot. Her father had even met Raoul, approving of the boy. Still, she couldn't do all the travelling anymore, it was just another case of the right people in the wrong time of their lives.

"What's the matter, Christine?" Raoul wondered innocently.

"I think I want to break up."

Christine bit her lip in suspense, feeling like a small child compared to Raoul's twenty-eight years. Sure she was twenty-one and considered an adult, but he had been in the business for years, and she was only a two-year old star.

"You think?" He answered sparsely, and she could imagine the look on his face. It was quite the sad image, but this just couldn't go on much longer.

"No… I know I want to break up, we're going on different paths Raoul. I love performing in the city, you… you like travelling and being places that aren't here! Besides, you never call, and if you remember to, it's late."

Raoul sighed heavily, that of which Christine could hear and silence befell them.

It only lasted a bit until she heard him speak softly through what sounded like a quivering chin, "I don't want to, but I think you're right, Christine. I don't like leaving you alone. I never did, but you know the way I do things. I simply am stuck in a pattern made of ten years, while your career constantly changes… I hope… I hope that you find someone willing to stay there with you. I know your father travelled, and you've had enough of that. Sorry I'm rambling, I just don't want to hang up and actually acknowledge that we're doing... this."

Christine felt a hot tear fall down her face, and she smiled, happy Raoul was letting go, but this was no happy occurrence regardless of her good fortune.

"Goodbye, Raoul."

"Goodbye, Christine."

With shaking hands, Christine hung up the phone. She felt lighthearted and burdened all at once.

Maybe that was why it was a such a shock when there was a knock on her door.

No one knew she lived in this building, in fact, everyone who visited her needed to be buzzed in before they could even walk up the stairs.

Unlocking her door, no greater shock would have come to her than a masked face and very dapper appearance.

"Christine." It was like a ringing a far off bell in her memories, and she nearly fell over at the sight of her Maestro. What an odd moment to come to her door.

Something about him was off, though, he looked overly excited, juxtaposing her recent emotions after that phone conversation. She'd never seen such excitement on a man before.

"Maestro… where have you been?" Christine wondered breathlessly, not caring to move to the side to let him in. How did he even get up here?

"Composing," he rushed, "I have created a new opera, it's perfect for you… and I shall star alongside you in it."

Taking a deep breath in, Christine tried to process everything that had happened within the last couple of minutes. Her life had gone from one extreme to the other.

"Why don't you come in and explain yourself. It's nearly midnight."

Brushing past her as though he'd brought her the most important thing ever, the masked-man turned, looking expectantly at her as she stared after him. The Phantom had always been an odd man, but even the tabloids hadn't ever seen him in such disarray.

"I've written an opera for you specifically, my _Don Juan Triumphant_. You will be my Amnita and I shall be Don Juan. Christine, this opera will set you for the rest of your life! You will be renowned as the brightest soprano to ever exist. This opera is _carved_ and branded for _your_ voice and yours alone. I will sound like a cow compared to your brilliance, and never have I wanted to be made a fool more than now. Say you'll do it."

Shutting her door, Christine forced him to sit, literally grabbing his upper arms and seating him on her couch, herself taking her chair back, feeling uncomfortable knowing she'd just waited for Raoul in it. The Phantom had been an unexpected visitor for certain.

"What are you talking about? It's been a year since I have seen you, and I have been doing perfectly well on my own."

"Yes, but I can get you a career that will proceed you for eternity. This opera will make you a diva Christine, true and well. No one will compare to you, not even Carlotta Guidicelli."

"That's a very high expectation, Maestro-"

"Erik… Erik Destler, is my name."

She could have fainted. Christine looked at this man… at _Erik _with a shaken core, not entirely sure how to deal with the fact that he was not only giving her an entire _opera_ that was made for her, but also his name. It was rumored only two people in the world knew his true name, and she just became the third.

How in love with her was he? And how did he know that she'd just ended things with Raoul? Did he tweet it the moment she ended the phone call?

"I'm actually free these upcoming couple of months," Christine decided that this was how he had decided it was time to approach her with this project, but she had plans already to see her father and just rest, "But I'm using them for a break I very much need, Erik."

He seemed to soften at the sound of his name coming from her lips. Saying it out loud was weird enough. Knowing The Phantom's name was a very wonderful and frightening privilege.

"You can have your boy here, Christine, I don't care what I have to do to get you to perform with me, but I'll do it. I will hire your father in the orchestra for three times what he is earning on the road if that must be. Please, just look at the score," Erik urged gently, thrusting the hand-written opera before her.

She felt like a small child who needed to be hovered over to do their assignments as a masked face watched her read the score. The music was… stunning. All the words were positively gorgeous, and she couldn't find a single thing wrong with it. Even the critics probably wouldn't be able to find a hole in the thing, it truly was a masterpiece. Then again, it was hard to find anything wrong with his operas to begin with.

"This is probably the most beautiful music I have ever held in my hands."

That grin he put on was extremely smug, and she did not appreciate it.

"Thank you, Christine, to hear that from you is… all I needed to hear."

Not that she was going to perform it, but she thought it odd that, if she did, his character just happened to wear a mask.

"And your Don Juan wears a mask?"

"He is burdened by an ugly face, why shouldn't he wear it?"

Christine looked at Erik oddly, "If you didn't put your name or anything on it, you could very well perform without your mask. Just make up a name or something to perform under…"

He did not like this answer, in fact, he stood up in a rage she'd never seen him exhibit before.

"Don't you understand?" he demanded sharply, "I _am _Don Juan."

Erik gestured to himself, and Christine feared he was going to hurt himself with how hard his finger hit his chest.

"I am disfigured, Christine! I do not wear this mask for the anonymity of it, I wear it because I _have _to."

The anger dissolved, a weak man in the tempered one's place.

"You don't need to tell me _all_ your secrets, Maestro," Christine said slowly, being gentle hoping to ease his obvious pain. Then again, she was struggling to take in everything. He really was divulging his soul to her, laying it bare and bleeding before her.

Erik collapsed to the sofa in a mess of limbs and emotions.

"Christine, you already know my deepest secret, does anything else matter?"

Thinking for a moment, she replied, "Your deepest secret is that you like me?"

A short, unamused laugh came from him, "Hardly, Christine, I _love_ you. I adore the very presence of you, and I would fall at your feet in an instant would you ask it of me."

Talk about jumping from one limb to the other without looking. First Raoul and her breaking up, now this, she didn't entirely know what to expect next.

"I can't say that I would do the same, but when you took me under your wing during _The Menace of Thorns,_ I came to care for you deeply, Erik. You… tore me apart when we lost contact."

"I was creating my masterpiece for you, Christine. I never dared to hurt you, I wouldn't think it."

Nodding slowly, Christine came to be at a loss for words. She went from knowing nothing about this man to positively everything… well, not quite so drastic, but discovering he loved her and that he hid a disfigurement not a normal face was more than anyone else probably knew.

Erik was pouring his heart out to her, and she didn't have a big enough basin to catch it all. His love surprised her, for it seemed so expansive that she was surprised to have unlocked such a bounty. What other singer had had an opera written to fit their voice so perfectly? None that she could think of. This gift he had given her was immense, and Erik seemed so determined… so naïve that she felt as though she just had to comply.

"I'll do it."

"Wonderful," he breathed reaching for the score which she handed back shakily, "I assume you'll want your lover to play the tenor?"

Christine scoffed, "He is not my lover any longer."

Hope sparked in his yellow eyes, but Christine would not entertain it. She did not love Erik, nor did she think she ever could. He was gentle, bar the scuffle they'd just had, and she cared for him. Her caring merely reached friendship at this point let alone lovers. They could not cross that line, it wouldn't be good for the either of them.

"I am sorry to hear that," he said in condolence, though it sounded more like a question. "And keep this, I have a copy. I want the one I wrote to be yours," Erik added excitedly, like a kid who needed to be patient and wait his turn to play with a toy. Eager but willing to wait.

"Thank you, Erik." She said, looking up at him as he stood, waiting for her to take the music back, his peace offering very unlike most people received.

"You're welcome."

He left, and Christine went to bed, falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Rehearsals started only a few days later and Christine felt like a new woman as she once again stood in a studio doing work for a Phantom opera. It was quite thrilling, actually, because she was working with the best of the best, as Erik had put it. They were the top shelf performers of everyone, Prima Ballerinas, Donnas, and other outstandings talents.

And then there was Erik. For being in love with her, he kept it very to himself, and people were stunned to see him on the stage. They all thought she should be a lot more amazed at his talent, but she'd taken voice lessons with him for a whole month, his immense talent was nothing new. His voice blew everyone out of the water, even her, and he wasn't afraid to show it. The only time he showed his love for her was when he was acting, which surprised Christine slightly. She thought that all the steamy scenes and near-kiss sets that happened would snap the man, but he was patient and professional.

It unnerved Christine because she suddenly felt like an infant compared to his prowess. Of course he would be an amazing co-star, why wouldn't he? She shamed herself for thinking otherwise.

There was one scene, however, near the end of the opera, where they did not tread until just before the opera was to premiere. A-List stars from all about the arts were coming to see _Don Juan Triumphant_, and this did not go unnoticed by anyone in the production. It was calculated, perfected, and then perfected again to meet not only the director's and audience's standards, but Erik's. He was an extremely harsh judge of talent, which made Christine wonder how he was so in love with her he thought her the best person to play Amnita. Surely someone else could have done better?

Regardless of the fact that there would be famous people at the premiere, Christine and Erik continued to leave one scene unfinished, well, sort of. There was supposed to be a kiss then a blackout, leading into the feast where Don Juan claimed his triumph of the Mistress Amnita, to which he is killed by a sword in the back by her husband. They had not practiced the kiss.

Now, Christine was professional, she always would be and had been, but kissing Erik, through the mask of all things, did not sit well with her. It was cruel to him, to kiss the woman he loves and then let her go at the end? She need not wonder why they didn't practice the kiss. He would need to do it night after night, as he did not possess an understudy, so why put himself through the torture?

Christine did not take extra-curricular lessons from Erik this time around, but they did spend much time together, rehearsing their plethora of scenes and notes. It was something else because despite the work, they did have time to laugh and learn through rehearsals. It wasn't all cut-throat intensity. In fact, in those moments where something spectacularly bad happened, Christine revelled in Erik's laugh.

The day came for the premiere, and even more than when she first performed before an audience, Christine was nervous. Trembling, sweating, and chills was the nervousness she had, feeling as though her inadequacy would finally come to light and she would be shunned from the community, completely defamed.

She got unsolicited reassurance, however.

The show started in what felt like moments, as Christine was in costume and make-up, but was still in her dressing-room. The place was quiet, exactly what she needed in that moment, and her heart beat with anticipation.

A knock on her door opened up to a terrible wave of noise which stopped when the door closed behind the visitor.

"You're going to do brilliantly Christine," the man told her brightly.

She turned and looked at Raoul with a smile. She was happy to see him despite it all, knowing the second talk they'd had a few days before was uncomfortable but necessary. They could possibly work together again one day, and that would not be good if they were still left on dissonant terms.

"Thank you, I didn't think you'd be here!"

He reached out his hands to her, taking both and placing a kiss to each of her cheeks, ever the Frenchman.

"I couldn't miss it. Even if we're not together, you mean a lot to me, Christine. I'm honored to be here and see you perform in a premiering Phantom piece."

Smiling, Christine kept the fact that she was literally the part she had been given a secret and squeezed his hands.

"I'm glad we can still be friends, Raoul."

"I am too, I'm not quite over it yet, but I will be. I just want you happy."

"Thank you, now get in your seat before the curtain opens!"

"I will, but first, you can stop shaking. You will do wonderfully… in fact, you will be the most seraphic one on the stage."

"_Go_," Christine urged him, practically shooing him.

It was comforting to know that out of all the famous and influential people there in the theater, there was a familiar face. Raoul and her father would be more than enough to get her through the performance.

Christine wished that more than anything she could have seen Erik before they'd gone out on stage. She just wanted to tell him to break a leg and that no matter what happened, she would do her best to make him proud. For heaven's sake the only reason this opera existed was because Erik loved her, the least she could do was excel.

She went out and performed what Christine thought was her best show ever, doing everything right and with a grace she'd never possessed before. It was spectacular, and her and Erik's chemistry was just the same. Everyone was on their feet the moment the curtain closed for the intermission which lasted what felt like seconds for Christine who could not find Erik unless they were on stage together or waiting in the wings for their cues. Otherwise he was scarce.

Finally, as though the night had been eternally long, they were reaching the final scene that had never been fully practiced. Their kiss was fast approaching, and Christine realized that they had to do this _now_. There was no delay or stage kiss practice, it was lips to lips for an audience that sat on the very edge of their seats to see how the opera ended.

Christine sang her final note, listening to the music change, her cue to lean in and finally seal the heat that had been between them through the back half of the opera.

In an instant, Christine knew why they had not practiced this moment. She hadn't been ready for it, to feel the love he held for her encompassed in a single touch of their lips which naturally fell into something much more. They both broke character, the build of the music allowing this sudden onslaught of emotion which Christine had been awoken to. Her heart suddenly raced with a new vigor, that of love and passion, feeling wholly Erik's in that moment. His arms wrapped around her body, and she grabbed his neck for dear life, the smoothness of his lips and tongue seducing her into a deeper embrace.

Practically making-out on the stage, the thing that finally broke them both was the sudden darkness outside of their eyelids.

As she looked at him, eyes connecting in the dark, he shook his head, anticipating her words. If she spoke everyone would hear her as her microphone did not disconnect in this transition. She took her place, unsure if she was ready to watch him die now that she realized she loved him.

Erik, the sly man he was, had waited… had baited her into his love by keeping his distance, allowing her to grow fond of him and want him, all to not let her say so until his opera was over.

What a cruel human being he was.

They finished out the scene, and Christine shed real tears as she ran to her lover and betrayed her husband, clutching to him as the curtains closed with a finality that was more than Christine could have asked for. Roaring cheers came from the crowd, and everyone scrambled towards their places for bows.

Christine took Erik's proffered hand and they walked out together, him bowing first then stepping back slightly, acknowledging her lead and smiling more proudly than she'd ever seen him do before.

For now she wouldn't mind having been the mouse that got caught in the trap because at least it had earned her the most delicious piece of cheese out there.

When the curtains closed, and Christine was besides herself with joy, they escaped to her dressing room and she finally got to speak the words that he had denied her earlier.

"I love you," she told him greedily, backing him against the wall with a devious grin.

"I love you, too, Christine."

"How long have you loved me?"

"Since the moment I first heard you sing in _Breathless King_."

Over a year, is what that meant. He'd been in love with her for over a year. And where had she been?

"I wish I could have loved you sooner. I wish I hadn't wasted so much of our time," she complained, but Erik would have none of it. Lifting her head with one of his large hands, Erik stroked her cheek with his thumb and gave her the most reassuring look.

"You loved me when you were ready, darling, that is all I care about. I have you now."

"Mhm," she hummed, accepting the hug that he gave her, his warmth overwhelming.

"Let's get out of here, Erik. I don't care who's here, I want to go home with you and never see the light of day again."

He chuckled at her willingness, "While I appreciate your enthusiasm, we must perform again tomorrow, Christine. Let's just start with the evening. I can guarantee darkness for as long as my curtains stay down."

"One, quick thing," she said, taking his hand.

"Anything, my love."

The words warmed Christine in her belly as she wanted to take this man home as soon as possible, but her inquiry was just a tiny bit more important than her want.

"Show me your face, please. I know everything but that."

While reluctant, Erik sighed and brought his free hand up to remove the mask, gently lifting the costume prop from his face.

What surprised her most was his lack of nose, but other than that it was not bad. His skin was tight and taut, but she adored him regardless and went on her very tiptoes to kiss him.

"I love you so much, Christine," he spoke gently, "I don't deserve you."

"You do, and I love you too."

"Let's get out of here, my Amnita."

"As you wish, Don Juan," Christine said and offered her arm to her valiant suitor, happy to have finally taken the bait to is year-long trap.


End file.
